more devastating for Lishelle to discover that her college flame—the one she still held a torch for—lied about being married when he came back into her life years later. The prick had used her for her money, stringing her along real good until he was able to steal a ton of cash from her. Ever since that betrayal—and considering she was also married before but divorced because her husband cheated on her—she’s been understandably guarding her heart.
At least, that’s my opinion. Because with Rugged—a local rap sensation and six years her junior—she was a different person. Happier, more vibrant. And she hasn’t quite been the same since she told him that their relationship could never go anywhere, and subsequently ended things with him.
Still, I say to Claudia, “I guess you’re right. She’s the one who broke up with him.”
“Exactly,” Claudia stresses, and then her eyes flit over my shoulder. Quickly, she grabs the newspaper, folds it and tosses it under the booth. Which tells me Lishelle has arrived.
And it also tells me that what Claudia just said—that the news of Rugged’s engagement will be no big deal to Lishelle—is hogwash.
I turn to see our friend heading toward us with a purposeful stride. She has the kind of beauty that looks effortless, but with her black hair flat-ironed straight, big, black sunglasses covering her eyes and a formfitting black dress more appropriate for a Saturday night, she looks like a supermodel this morning.
“Hey, ladies,” she all but sings as she reaches us. She bends over to kiss my cheek, then takes a seat beside Claudia. “Sorry I’m late. I was … occupied.”
My eyebrows shoot up. The dress. That big-ass smile.
Claudia obviously has gotten the same vibe I have. “And why are you late?” she asks, eyeing Lishelle skeptically.
Lishelle slips off her designer sunglasses, a playful smirk on her face. “You want to know his name?”
“Girl!” I exclaim. “You met someone?”
Lishelle beams. “You could say that.”
“Nice,” Claudia quips. “The walk of shame in a public place.”
“No one here knows I had this dress on last night,”
Lishelle says. Then, “A round of mimosas? Of course, not for you,” she adds, smiling sweetly at me.
“No, of course not,” I say. On Sundays, restaurants in Atlanta start serving alcohol at twelve-thirty, which is why we show up right about then. “I’ll stick with the ginger tea.”
Lishelle flags down Sierra, the petite Asian woman who has waited on us every Sunday afternoon for as long as we can remember. Except for the three-month span where Sierra thought she was in love, and took off to Los Angeles to be with the man of her dreams. Sadly, the relationship that had started online fizzled when they began living in the real world. Though the truth is, for our own selfish reasons, we’re happy to have Sierra back here. We never did bond with Apple, the woman who had waited on us in Sierra’s absence. Sierra is a premed student, putting herself through school by waitressing.
“Afternoon, ladies,” Sierra says sweetly. “How’re y’all doing?”
“We’re fantastic,” Lishelle replies, and Claudia and I share a look across the table. Whoever this guy is, she must be really into him.
“Two mimosas and a ginger tea, right?” Sierra asks.
“You know us so well,” Lishelle says.
Lishelle took particular pleasure in listening to Sierra tell us how her relationship with Braden had fallen apart at the seams, as she was the one who’d taken it the hardest when Sierra had suddenly been gone. Lishelle has been extra generous with her tips since her return, which she claims are to help Sierra with her premed expenses, but Claudia and I know it’s more of an incentive not to run off again.
“You even sound different,” Claudia says once Sierra has taken our order. “Who is he and how many hours did he rock your world?”
“And how on earth did you manage to get lucky at a retirement party?” I ask. That’s where she was supposed to have been last night, at a retirement party for someone at the news station.
Lishelle’s eyes brighten. “His name is Damon, and he’s a friend of Maureen’s, who does makeup. Remember I told you that she said she has a friend she wanted me to meet? How she thought we’d be great together? I’ve been busy, so has he, so we hadn’t made it happen yet. But he shows up unexpectedly at the get-together last night, pretty much begging to take me out afterward. He offered me real food—not that god-awful finger food the catering company provided, so how could I say no? And—get your minds out of the gutter—we had a really nice time.”
“What do you mean get our minds out of the gutter?” Claudia asks. “And what exactly do you mean by nice?”
“We went to Sambucca lounge, had a decent and lovely dinner and talked,” Lishelle explains. “He’s gorgeous, and the conversation between us flowed really well. He’s the kind of guy you could talk to all night long. So, when they were about to shut down the club and he suggested we go to his place, I thought why not?”
“The first night,” I say, and then tsk.
“Like I said, get your minds out of the gutter. He suggested we continue talking. He was telling me all about his college-football career, and it was quite fascinating. I wanted to hear more.”
“I’m sure that’s all you wanted,” Claudia says, and rolls her eyes.
Sierra arrives with our drinks, and gives a little smirk as she places them on the table. Over the years, I’m sure she has gotten an earful of juicy conversation from us—but she’s always had the grace not to say.
“Sierra,” I begin, “if you don’t mind, can I also get a tall glass of orange juice?”
“Sure thing,” she says.
“Believe it or not,” Lishelle continues when Sierra has disappeared, “I am capable of staying the night at a guy’s place and not fucking him.”
Claudia pretends to cough because of her drink. I stifle a laugh.
“It’s like that, is it?” Lishelle asks, feigning a hurt tone.
“Oh, go on,” I tell her. “Tell us what happened next.”
“Now, I’m not saying I wasn’t tempted. Trust me, it’s been a long time, and Damon is as hot as they come. The fact that I didn’t jump him is a testament to my self-restraint, because damn, you should have seen the man’s thighs. He used to play college football. I told you that, right?”
“You sure did,” Claudia says.
“Part of me didn’t believe his let’s continue talking line,” Lishelle continues. “I figured at some point he’d try to get me into bed. But Damon was very sweet and kept his promise. We chatted, drank a bit of wine—and yes, we shared one hot kiss—but then he put on a movie, and we snuggled on the sofa. I fell asleep in his arms. So, yeah, a very nice time.”
“Sounds
